He invited me on a date in the commons area of the dorm rooms. It was his idea to play Never Have I Ever. That idea was the death of him. But little did I know, there was more to Noah than I ever knew. A continuation of sorts to Love in Loss. -previously published under tastethekiss-

"I don't know," I said hesitantly, looking at
the empty room around us. I wasn't much for sitting alone with boys
I didn't know, and the idea unnerved me. "We don't even know
each other."

"We know each other," Noah told me emphatically,
grabbing two pillows from the couch and tossing them to the ground.
"We're just getting to know each other better. Now sit."

I watched as he lowered himself onto his pillow and
pulled a bag of caramel pieces from his pocket, dividing them into
two equal piles, piece by piece. I still didn't like the idea, but
someone was bound to walk in the room and I would be protected if
something went wrong. Besides, he seemed like a nice guy. I was just
being paranoid.

He glanced up and cleared his throat. "Well?"

Slowly, I lowered myself down to the floor, gathering
the pillow in front of me, avoiding direct eye contact. "Okay."

Noah looked at me for a few seconds before shaking
his head and giving me my caramel pile. "Okay, I've played this
game a few times, but seriously, it was only because my sister forced
me. They had sleepovers; there wasn't much I could do. Anyway, I'm
pretty sure most girls know how to play this, so if I do it wrong,
you have permission to punch me or whatever girls do." He looked up
expectantly with a grin on his face, as though I should know what he
was talking about.

"Have you ever played 'Never Have I Ever'?"

It took a moment for what he was saying to sink in
before I let out a hoot. "I haven't played that game in years!"
I cried joyfully, laughing as I eyed up my candy, already thinking of
good tactics.

Noah's shoulders slumped, undoubtedly relieved that
I found such joy in his game. "So I take it you know how to play?"

I laughed and looked at him sincerely for the first
time we sat down. He was genuinely polite, always opening doors and
using his manners, but more than that, he was the first gentleman I'd
ever met in my life. There could be some potential with him, I
decided.

----------

An hour later, we sat in the same position in the
commons area, laughing at a story Noah had just told me about his
brother, a softball, and a worm. The only difference in the setting
of our game was the size of the piles of caramel-- his dwindling at
an eerily fast pace, and mine double the size since we first started.

"Okay, seriously, how did this happen?" Noah
looked alarmed, probably at the thought of losing a game to a girl. A
girl who did have advantages in playing, I must admit. I wasn't
joking when I said I grew up on the game.

I shrugged. "Obviously I have some secret talent
for 'Never Have I Ever.' For serious, if this were an Olympic
sport, I'd win the gold."

Noah stared at me. "Not only is that the oldest and
cheesiest joke in the book, but I know you must have cheated to be
this far ahead of me. You've been stealing my caramel pieces,
haven't you?"

I gaped at him, ready to lash out, until I saw the
twinkle in his eye. Whatever, I would play along. "And why would
you think that," I asked coyly, my hand inching forward to his
pile.

Quickly, he swiped his few pieces closer to him. "No
reason. I'd never suspect a lady of cheating."

"Then what did you just accuse me of?"

Noah raised an eyebrow. "Did I ever say you were a
lady?"

My jaw dropped. "Hey!"

Noah laughed. "I was joking! Kidding, kidding. But
honestly, how did this happen?"

I giggled. "You don't have the technique! I tried
telling you."

As Noah sulked, I observed our piles. I really did
have much more than him, and I could swipe him of his last few
caramel pieces easily if I wanted. But the question was whether or
not I really wanted the game to end. I couldn't help admitting that
I liked him-- or the game he started, at the least. Did I want to
ruin this?

"You have to take cheap shots." I was weak, but
as his eyes flickered toward me for an explanation, I knew I wouldn't
regret the decision I made. "If you want your candy back, you need
to take dirty blows that I can't get out of," I clarified, his
bewildered expression begging for enlightenment.

"What?"

For a pre-med major, he really wasn't as
intelligent as I would have expected. I really thought he would pick
up on it when we first started playing the game, but he was too busy
trying to think of things he thought I'd never done. He hadn't
picked up on the fact that I said things like, "Never have I ever
been a boy," and, "Never have I ever majored in pre-med." He
was still able to get me on a few of his, but I had dominated this
game.

"You need to say things that apply to me and only
me--"

"I know! That's the point of this game!"

Clearly, he was getting frustrated. I held up my
hand. "For example, you need to say something like, 'Never have I
ever been a girl.' Or… 'Never have I ever owned Winnie-the-Pooh
checks.'"

He stared at me. "Winnie-the-Pooh checks?"

"That's not the point!"

Noah laughed. "All right, I get it. Whose turn is
it?"

I honestly didn't remember. "We'll say it's
yours, considering you have a lot to make up."

"Ha, ha," he made a face. "Fine then, never
have I ever been a girl."

I threw a caramel piece at him. "Okay, that was
weak, considering I told you that one, but I'll give it to
you anyway. Wimp."

"I still got the candy, did I?" He smirked
triumphantly. "Your turn, Sunshine, and don't use any cheap
tricks. I know the secret now."

"Fine," I pouted. "I don't need cheap tricks
anyway!" But as I sat there and thought of something I'd never
done, I found that I would have really appreciated saying something
stupid instead of looking stupid. I was running out of things that
I'd done, which is really bizarre, because I haven't done much.
I'm one of those people that makes lists about things I'd like to
do but then never actually get around to doing them.

I sighed. This was hard, and all Noah was doing was
staring at me. At one point he'd even started singing the jeopardy
song, but my glare had quickly shut him up. The real challenge was
coming up with something that hadn't already been said. It was a
well-known rule that if you gave one that was already said, you gave
up two pieces of candy instead of one. I couldn't afford those
kinds of mistakes.

Had I already mentioned the train? Did he look like
the kind of guy that would ride a train? Did people who rode trains
have a look about them? A worldly look, maybe. Sophisticated, one
that said, "I've traveled. I'm cool, I know." But did Noah
look like that?

Finally, I settled on a statement. "Never have I
ever," I started slowly, "had…"

Noah looked impatient. "Get on with it, already."

I took a deep breath. "Surgery."

Staring straight ahead, I held my breath, hoping
beyond hope I would win one of his pieces. Noah stared straight back
at me before slowly reaching down and moving a caramel toward me.
"Lucky guess," I heard him mutter.

He started to say his next statement, but I beat him
to the punch. "No, wait a second! I want to hear the story behind
this!"

"It's a little gruesome," he said, blanching. I
wondered if it was painful for him to remember.

"Oh." I stared at the ground. "I'm sorry. If
it's too personal we can move on and--"

"No, it's not that," he started, tracing
patterns on the floor. "It's just that I'm not sure how you'd
handle the story. I've told it a few times before, and even my mom
feels a bit sick when she hears it retold. It's definitely not
dinner conversation."

I raised an eyebrow. "Is any surgery dinner-worthy
conversation?"

"You've got a point," he grinned, looking into
my eyes with resignation. "Alright, I'll tell you, as long as you
promise not to run out of the room or get grossed out or start
screaming or hit me and said that you didn't want to hear. Because
you do."

"Have other people done that or something?"

Noah gave me a look and I giggled, imagining the
different scenarios playing out.

"Okay, it happened when I was eight. My parents
were both at work and I just came home from school, so I was really
hungry. I looked through all the cupboards and instead of getting
something simple like an apple, I decided I wanted macaroni and
cheese. I knew it wasn't hard to make and I helped my mom with it
before, so I knew what I was doing. I set a pot of water on the stove
to boil, but I was a little on the short side, so I had some trouble
with it. We had a little stool in the kitchen for when I washed
dishes and everything, but that didn't boost me up much.

"Anyway," he wiped his hands on his pants,
grimacing at the memory, "I pulled over the stool when I saw the
water boiling, and I went to pull it off the stove so I could pour in
the noodles. I'm not sure why I didn't just pour it in on the
stove, but I was eight so I wasn't thinking all that clearly. But I
pulled the water off the stove, but because I was so short, I tipped
the pot forward and all the boiling water spilled onto the front of
my shirt and skin."

I gasped. "Oh my God."

Noah swallowed. "I was wearing a white shirt, and
it burned, but I think I was in shock at that stage because I
couldn't really feel anything. I pulled at my shirt because it was
wet and steaming, and as I looked down I saw something stuck to my
shirt and blood pouring over the ground. It wasn't until later that
I realized I pulled my skin straight off the front of my body."

I swallowed down the bile in my throat, not daring to
interrupt as he continued.

"That's when I started to scream. By God's
grace, my neighbor heard my yells from across the street and ran
over, practically throwing me into her car to drive me to the ER
after she saw what happened. I don't even think she fully
registered what happened to me, but the blood and my screams were
enough to make her act fast."

He closed his eyes. "I was rushed to the hospital
but I don't really remember what happened. After I was conscious,
they told me that they stabilized me quickly to make sure I didn't
go into shock. Then they started operating as soon as possible
because they feared damage to my heart and lungs, because my skin was
pretty weak since I was eight. I had fourth degree burns, meaning
that I had irreplaceable skin loss and I ended up needing major skin
grafts. I was in and out of reality, but I was in the hospital about
two months."

Noah took a few breaths to calm himself and I quickly
got up and grabbed two water bottles from the commons fridge, letting
out a shaky breath myself. My head was pounding and I couldn't
digest everything he had told me. Oh, God, why had I asked? I handed
him a water bottle and sat down, taking a long drink. "Thanks,"
he smiled at me, an honest, heart-felt smile, and I suddenly felt
lucky that he was alive.

I took a breath and cleared my throat. "Did you,
uh," I cleared my throat again. "Is that why you decided to
become a doctor?" I didn't look at him, averting my eyes. I
shouldn't have been that personal.

"Hey, it's okay that you asked," Noah said
suddenly, seemingly reading my thoughts. "If you had been too
forward, I would have told you so. It's something you would have
found out eventually, and it's not something that I'm embarrassed
about."

I nodded, my voice failing me.

We were silent for a few moments. "Please, don't
let this be awkward," Noah finally said, not looking at me. "I
like you too much for this to get weird and for you to not want to
see me again."

I squirmed where I sat. "You aren't a horrible
person for asking me," Noah said, grabbing my face and looking into
my eyes. "Just please stick to the promise you made because I don't
want to hear about how grossed out you are. You heard it, I lived
it."

I nodded, looking into his eyes.

"So, is that why I decided to become a doctor?"
He said in a light-hearted voice, dropping his hands from my face,
talking as though our intense conversation hadn't happened. "Well,
I'm not sure. I just know that by the time senior year rolled
around, I realized I enjoyed bio, aced anatomy despite the teacher,
and rocked the house when I took chemistry. And so I figured why not
major pre-med?" He shrugged, "I realized I could always change my
mind. And I haven't looked back since."

"But you're sure this is what you want?" I
asked him, a lot more comfortable with the situation than I had been
moments ago. The boy had charisma. "I was always told that you
better be sure you want to become a doctor, because you'll put
yourself in hundreds of thousands of dollars in debt by going to med
school. And if you drop out in the middle of it…"

Noah grinned. "Yeah, it's what I want."

"Well at least you have that all figured out," I
muttered, twisting the cap back on my water bottle.

"And what about you? Wait, let me take a turn!"
He looked victorious. "Never have I ever been an English major!"

Rolling my eyes, I pushed a piece of caramel forward.
He could have gotten me with something better, considering I was a
double major in English and history, and I wondered if he realized
that. I wasn't about to tell him, though.

"Alright, now tell me the story behind your major
and what you want to do with the rest of your life."

I stared at him. He wasn't beating about the bush,
was he?

"Well, I like to write and I like to read and I
loved English class in school. I was good
at it." I smiled, reminiscing the good times I'd had in high
school.

"Let me guess," Noah started, raising an eyebrow.
"You were one of those literature snobs that always got 100 on
every test, quiz, and report card."

I opened my mouth to retort, but closed it and
decided to think out my answer. This was apparently hilarious, as
Noah fell on his side laughing at my reaction. "I knew it!" He
cried. "You were one of them!"

"And I bet you were one of those proud, arrogant
jocks that thought they ruled the school!" This comment only made
him laugh even more, and I realized I looked a bit dumb saying it. I
mean, he played guitar, studied, and… didn't even play a sport.
He kept in shape, I could tell, but he didn't even look as though
he was a jock in high school. But the comment just popped out.

"You're statement was completely
wrong," he laughed, snorting. "But mine was right on the dot!"

My jaw dropped. "That is not true! I was not
a literature snob and, in fact, I'm still not! And getting a
perfect grade is a result of studying hard and paying attention to my
work. Plus I'm just naturally good at all subjects related to
reading and writing."

Noah rolled his eyes. "Let me guess, okay? You love
reading the classics and your favorite piece of literature is Jane
Eyre. You probably tried to live by that book all during high school.
And you tried to recruit people to read Faulkner with you throughout
the summer, but no one actually understood it but you."

I glared at him as he fell over laughing again. "For
your information, my favorite book is A Wrinkle in Time by
Madeleine L'Engle, followed closely by To Kill a Mockingbird,
which really isn't all that pretentious. Plus I love chick lit and
Dr. Seuss is one of my favorite authors of all time!" Well, the Dr.
Seuss remark was a bit of a stretch, but I had to sound a bit more
down-to-earth.

"Uh-huh," he said, still chuckling.

"And I've stood in line and dressed up for every
Harry Potter midnight release party and I've read each book the
night it came out!" I smiled triumphantly. This, at least, was one
hundred percent true and Noah even looked impressed by it.

"Are you kidding me?"

I simply raised my eyebrows as he sat up and began
spewing out Harry Potter theories, looking very much like an excited
little boy who got a puppy for Christmas. I laughed and sat back as
he started recalling the costume he wore to the release of Harry
Potter and the Half-Blood Prince and conversed with him about
what we thought the finale to the series would contain.

The night couldn't have gone much better.

The author would like to thank you for your continued support. Your review has been posted.